Kindness
Reciting a Beloved Poem
I love memorizing poetry, friends. This is no secret. And no poem has rooted itself more deeply in my cells and my bones than “Kindness” by Naomi Shihab Nye. What a gift to have these lines committed to heart.
I took a quick, unplanned video this morning while pacing in my backyard and procrastinating on hanging laundry . . . I so wanted to gift these lines to you, too. I hope hearing these rich and resonant words brings you as much comfort, light, and hope as they bring me.
Kindness
by Naomi Shihab Nye
Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to gaze at bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
It is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.
From Words Under the Words: Selected Poems. Copyright © 1995 by Naomi Shihab Nye.
I’m wishing you every good thing, dear friends. Thank you for your relentless and gentle kindness to me and all in The Mending Space. As always, please feel free to reach out . . . you know where to find me. Onward . . . Forward . . . With love . . .
A favorite poet and poem. A Valentine for Ernest
How wonderful memorizing this poem. It’s one of my favorites. I haven’t memorized a whole poem since high school—Jabberwocky. Everyone in my class had to stand before the class and share. We had an amazing teacher that somehow could get everyone to enjoy participating.